LITMIR.BIZ

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SEVEN

      CHRISSIE SAT ON Jaul’s private jet during the flight to Marwan like a small grave statue, slender body straight-backed and rigid, hands circumspectly folded on her lap, eyes veiled.

      Jaul compressed his sensual lips and grimly returned his attention to his laptop. What had he expected? A relaxed and happy travelling companion? It was wiser to concentrate on the positives: Chrissie was on board with his children and, even better, was considerately wearing the sort of outfit for her first public appearance that would impress his people. The simple blue shift dress enhanced the slender grace of her figure. In the sunlight coming through the porthole behind her, she looked incredibly beautiful with her hair gleaming like a liquid fall of bright reflective silver. That same exacting light accentuated her almost transparent porcelain skin and the lush perfection of her soft pink lips.

      All too fast and predictably, Jaul recalled the silky brush of her hair across his thigh and the hot, erotic grip of her mouth. Long brown fingers braced on the table edge in front of him as arousal coursed through him with the force of a volcanic flow of lava, leaving him hot and hard and throbbing with need. Gritting his teeth, he concentrated instead on thinking about how she would react to the special request he had to make of her. He compressed his wide, sensual mouth, resolving to approach the topic with tact.

      Chrissie’s stillness cloaked her inner turmoil. She wanted to scream and shout with angry frustration. Jaul had, quite literally, hunted her down and trapped her like prey. Two years too late she was taking up the role of being his wife and the mother of his children, a role that she would once, most ironically, have eagerly embraced. A trickle of perspiration beaded her short upper lip as she recalled the incredible crush of paparazzi fighting to photograph the Marwani royal party at the airport and the sheer wall of security men it had taken to hold them back. It had not occurred to her that their marriage would so quickly incite that amount of attention. Jaul had taken it in his stride but Chrissie had been unnerved by that level of public exposure.

      But then, in truth, the past twenty-four hours had been equally unsettling. Cesare and Lizzie had reacted to her announcement that she was returning to Marwan with Jaul with far less surprise than Chrissie had naively expected. Her sister and brother-in-law had assumed that Jaul and Chrissie were making an effort to rebuild their marriage for the sake of their two young children.

      ‘And if it doesn’t work out, at least you know you tried and you can come home again,’ Lizzie had proclaimed in her innocence of the fact that ‘coming home’ was an option that Chrissie had legally surrendered two years earlier. To come home, she would have to be willing to leave her children behind her and that was not an option she could ever imagine choosing.

      That same day, Chrissie had boxed up her possessions for storage and had put her apartment in the hands of a rental agency. For what had remained of her meagre twenty-four hours of freedom, she had gone shopping with her sister for a more suitable wardrobe of formal clothing. In the evening her father had arrived in London for a visit and Jaul had joined them for dinner. Jaul had dealt calmly with her father’s often barbed comments and he had laughed when Chrissie had remarked on his discretion before his departure.

      ‘When it comes to temperament, your father is a walk in the park. My father lost his head in rage at least once a week. There was no reasoning with him and he would often say offensive things. Of course, he was very much indulged growing up and because he saw himself as an all-powerful ruler he never studied to control his temper,’ he had confided, startling her with his candour. ‘It was a good learning experience for me.’

      That glimpse into Jaul’s background had sharply disconcerted Chrissie because to her it had sounded less like a learning experience and rather more like living with a tyrant. Recalling the raging man she had once briefly met, Chrissie had made no comment as she suppressed an inner shiver while contemplating the possibility that, with such an intolerant and inflexible parent, Jaul’s childhood could not possibly have been as secure and privileged as she had always assumed.

      Before boarding the flight, Chrissie had gone to a beauty salon to have her hair trimmed and her nails painted, small measures to enable her to present herself as the well-groomed royal wife people would be expecting to see by Jaul’s side. Royal? That very word made her roll her eyes. The only royal thing about her was that she had allowed Jaul to royally shaft her in every sense of the word, she thought with rebellious bitterness.

      She had agreed to return to a husband who had once abandoned her and who had yet to explain himself on that score. How on earth had she allowed him to get away with that? How had she let that huge question get buried beneath her terror of losing custody of the twins? And what the heck was Jaul still hiding from her?

      He was probably only trying to hide the unlovely truth from her, Chrissie reasoned with scorn. But she wasn’t stupid and she could work out the most likely scenario for herself. Obviously Jaul had never loved her; all he had ever felt for her was lust, a lust honed to a fine sharp edge by the length of time he’d had to wait to get her into bed. Had he realised soon after their marriage that he had made a dreadful mistake and that she was not at all what he wanted in a wife?

      Had he then confessed all to his father? Why else would Jaul have never returned from Marwan? Was he now ashamed of having once treated her so cruelly? Of the fact that he had dumped her without even having the guts to tell her he was done with her? Of the fact he had had his father pay her off as though she were some sort of slutty gold-digger? Was that why Jaul had still to explain his own behaviour?

      From below her lashes, Chrissie studied her husband with simmering intensity. Whether she liked it or not, dressed in a charcoal-grey suit stamped with the flawless cut and fit of handmade designer elegance, Jaul looked absolutely gorgeous. One look at him with his strong jawline already shadowed by faint black stubble and his guarded dark eyes pinned to her below the heavy black fringe of his lashes and her pulses hammered. She had a sudden devastating image of his lithe, sleek body sinking down over hers and, even in the mood she was in, her breathing constricted and her heart pounded like crazy. Jolted by that response, her chest tightened in a stress reaction even as she felt her nipples prickle and swell below her clothing.

      In Jaul’s magnetic presence those reactions came as naturally as breathing to her. Her carefully constructed barrier of scorn was already being burned off by the pool of heat spreading like liquid honey at the heart of her. It was desire, the very same lust she had mentally slated Jaul for, and it was a terrifyingly strong hunger, she acknowledged grudgingly, and unfortunately not a stimulus that died down at her bidding. If she didn’t watch out and stay on her guard, he would hook her in again like a stupid fish.

      But why on earth did she feel so cringe-makingly needy? She had lived perfectly well without sex until Jaul came back into her life and now it was as though he had lit a fire inside her that she couldn’t put out. That burning hunger unsettled her and flung her back in time to the days when just being near Jaul had swept her up to an adrenaline-charged high where desire and emotion combined in an intoxicating rush. And no way was she planning to let herself sink back to that level, she swore inwardly.

      By the time the jet was circling and getting ready to land, Chrissie’s tension was on a high. She was apprehensive about the new life ahead of her in Marwan. Naturally she was. A different culture, a language she didn’t speak and suddenly she was royal, an actual queen? Of course she was nervous about the mistakes she would undoubtedly make.

      Furthermore in her head where it mattered she still saw herself as a Yorkshire farmer’s daughter, born in poverty and raised by a troubled mother. She had made it to university and trained as a teacher but it had never once crossed her mind that one day she would be the wife of a king. Even when she had married Jaul she had failed to look ahead to that future because it had seemed so far away and unreal. She had not been aware at the time that, although seemingly in the best of health and looking much younger than his years, King Lut had already been in his seventies. The older man had suffered a massive heart attack and had died without the smallest warning.

      ‘I should tell you that within Marwan the news of our marriage has been received very positively,’ Jaul informed her soothingly as the jet engines

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